


Leeches

by mattzerella_sticks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Castiel Knows About Dean's Feelings, Dean Has a Bad Password, Everyone Knows About Dean's Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Flustered Dean Winchester, M/M, Obvious Dean Winchester, Passwords, Pining Dean Winchester, Sharing a Netflix, inspired by a tumblr post, netflix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Sharing a Netflix makes sense, in hindsight. Dean gets it. But that doesn't mean he appreciates seeing a bunch of profiles after his that weren't there last he checked.He's gonna get to the bottom of this - of when this happened, why, and how they were able to guess his password.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 140





	Leeches

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw this post and was inspired to write this quick little fic, I thought it was so funny!!
> 
> https://svmwinchesterr.tumblr.com/post/628964063063474176
> 
> I hope you enjoy my interpretation 😁

Dean storms into the Bunker’s library, fist shaking, remote still trapped in his ever-tightening grip. Like prey caught by an angry python. He sees Sam and Jack quietly conversing at one of the back tables over Sam’s tablet. “Hey,” he bellows, stomping over, “you two have some explaining to do!”

They startle, both glancing up from the tablet. “Dean,” Sam says, dialing up a protective barrier, shielded from Dean’s fury by pursing his lips. “Do you really need to shout?”

He stops, slamming his hands against the table. Plastic sickeningly cracking on the hard wood. “You,” he hisses, glaring between the two, “how could you?”

“How could we what?” Jack looks to Sam, “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“Not a clue –“

“ _Netflix_.” Dean forces the words through grit teeth, “You’re both… on my _Netflix_ … _how_?”

The intensity of Sam’s frown skyrockets, understanding lessening an already thin amount of patience. “This is why you’re angry?” he asks. Then, “You’re only finding out now?”

Something explodes within Dean, body quaking hard enough his eyeballs might pop from their sockets. Sam’s response was not what he expected. In fact, this whole situation can be summarized as such. Unexpected. Unanticipated. _Surprising_.

Dean sat bored in his room, twiddling his thumbs. Racking his brain for things he might do. He scanned his bookshelf, only no title grabbed his attention. All the playlists in his MP3 were worn in the ground for the moment, sick of hearing the same songs. Bothering the others in the Bunker seemed interesting, except it involved leaving his room. His bed proved too tempting; Dean not keen on standing yet. But any hope of being entertained and in bed diminished the longer his boredom persisted. There’s only a short list of fun to be had in bed _alone_. Dean ran out of lotion yesterday, and there was nothing on TV.

Except that’s not true anymore.

He’s reminded of technology, gaze caught on the Fire Stick jutting out of his television set. Installed between crises after Sam insisted he share the Dean Cave so Eileen and him can have dates. With the addition, he can access the Internet. With the Internet, Dean can go on Netflix.

With Netflix, Dean can kill his boredom.

Dean groped around for his remote, crowing when he finds it. Fumbled for a beat while he figures out how the apps work. The TV and Fire Stick have been sitting in Dean’s room unused for the most part, being dragged away immediately after setting it up and not having the chance to go on any other time. Although his absence on Netflix stretches farther than the TV in his room, as he even neglected using it on his laptop. He cannot remember the last time he browsed his Netflix, hoping that it kept his preferences. And remembered his password, not that it’d be an issue. _Dean_ remembered. Always will. It's a pretty good password...

Preferences and passwords were the last things on his mind, however, when he noticed the row of profiles following his like ducklings with their mother.

“Sam,” Dean says, finally at a normal register, “why do you have your own profile? On _my_ account? What happened to _yours_?”

He shrugs, crossing his arms. “The credit card I attached to it got deactivated,” he says, “Besides, it’s stupid having two different accounts when we could share the one.”

“And I usually use Sam’s,” Jack adds, smiling. Indifferent to Dean’s meltdown. “So I transitioned into using yours as well.”

“But… but…” Dean’s dimples appear, brow furrowing as he splutters. “But how’d you even get in?”

Sam arches a brow, leaning back in his seat. “Like your password was so hard to guess…”

Dean’s face burns. He drags his hands off the table, spine straightening at the mention of his password. What he thought was an impenetrable fortress showed itself being a poorly guarded outpost. “Well…” he taps the battered remote on his thigh, head bowed, “I… did you have to tell Charlie, then? And Adam?”

“We didn’t tell them.”

Scratch that. It’s actually an abandoned shack with a target strung up in lights. The little warning that judged his choice hits him, regret at not listening leaving a fierce bruise. Dean feels the embarrassment creep up his neck like tentacles, slimy and awkward. His grip on the remote slackens, dropping it on his foot. He bites his lip, swallowing a curse. Afraid it would come out strained from the vice grip fear has on his vocal cords. If they all could figure it out, then what’s stopping –

“Dean,” Cas strolls in, tablet in hand, “what picture should I choose for my profile?”

His entrance forces a choked gasp past his lips. “You too?” Dean asks, hoarse as expected.

“Me too, what?” he asks, stare bouncing around the room. Sam hides behind his curtain-like hair, shoulders bouncing from poorly controlled giggling. Jack only meets Cas’s confusion with his own. Cas turns to Dean again. “Really, Dean,” he says, advancing, “I was thinking about using this – but do you think it’s a puppy wearing a mask, or a raccoon?”

Dean clears his throat. “Cas,” he says, too aware of how their shoulders brushed, “Is that… is that my Netflix?”

He looks from the screen, noses nearly brushing. “Yes,” Cas answers, “I thought that’s what we were doing… I’ll confess I’ve been putting off setting mine up since Sam told me his subscription was cancelled, but with the hunting lull, I figured now was the best time.”

“And… And Sam,” he quickly darted away from Cas, at Sam, before coming back. Squinting under the harshness of his sun. “He _told_ you my password?”

Cas glows brighter at that, grin widening. “No,” he says, “I guessed. Took me a while but… I’m flattered. Really.”

_When Dean Set Up His Netflix – Years Ago_

“It has to be something no one would guess.”

Charlie told Dean this after talking him through the home page, Sam pulling her towards the library for some archive help. Alone, Dean mulled over his password with a half-filled bottle of whiskey on one side and a fifth in a nearby glass on the other. His _fourth_ fifth.

“Something no one’d guess, huh…” he slurred, thinking. Dean’s first instinct, _Impala67_ , seemed too obvious. Even when under the influence. Crossing that off his list, he meanders through possible options. More disjointed as he spirals downwards.

But then the skies part, and the heavens deliver him a solution. _Literally._

“C-a-s-t-i-e-l,” he types with his pointer fingers, cheeks hurting from his smile. “The perfect password… he keeps me safe, and he’ll keep m’movies safe, too.”

He drains the rest of his drink, and then pours more. A reward for choosing a strong password that no one will ever guess.

“Cas… I miss Cas,” he says aloud, collapsing on the keyboard. A string of nonsense filling the search bar. “I wonder what he’s doing… probably up there, alone… maybe he can take a break…?” Flushed, Dean stands. Wobbling slightly. “Yeah, and we can watch something on my new Netflix maybe. He can have his own! But not mine… he can’t know my password…”

Dean leaves his laptop open, Netflix on, leaving the room while rambling about his _awesome_ password.

**Author's Note:**

> What'd you think? Let me know by dropping a kudos and/or a comment!
> 
> And feel free to check out my other work 😁


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